One Night
by Galaxy-Defending-Hopeful
Summary: Richmond's dreams are powerful, but do they just reflect the truth? Sometimes Denholm needs to reflect. Richmond/Denholm, mild slash.


**This is the first IT Crowd fanfic I've ever written, so please be nice! Richmond/Denholm, mild slash.**

* * *

Richmond gasped as he jerked awake, his skinny white body pushing away from the sweaty mattress as the images of his dream filled his mind, momentarily dumping him in a strange mental world between awake and dreaming when the taste of his dream was still floating on his lips, but his body was flung back into real life. The room was shrouded in darkness despite the fact that weak morning sun was already appearing outside (Richmond loved his thick, black velvet curtains), and a mixture of oddball clothes and makeup scattered the black carpet.

Denholm. Denholm Renholm.

Denholm pushing him into the scratchy carpet of his dream, his fingers clamping tightly around his bony wrists. Denholm's breath hot and moist against his ivory neck as he whispered words of nothing into the night. Denholm clutching his hips as he trailed his lips down closer and closer to his genitals, while his own fingers dug into the bed - when had they moved to the bed? The taste of Denholm's skin under his probing tongue and nipping teeth. Denholm holding him, loving him, feeling him..._creating _him. In the dream, Richmond had been whole. Sighing, he turned onto his side, hoping that he would sleep dreamlessly for the rest of the night. However, lying between the black satin sheets was a figure, as evident by the sudden realisation that something warm was breathing beside him. Richmond squinted in the dark at the figure, suddenly acutely aware despite his sleepy fog-brain that he couldn't remember anything of the previous night. Had Jessica come over? Was this some kind of left-over fantasy?

"Mmhhh..." the figure groaned in its sleep, shuffling around a little in the expanse of the bed. More awake by the second, Richmond brushed a strand of black, rumpled hair from his eyes before reaching to his side and fumbling for his lamp, allowing its dim glow to twinkle elegantly and cast its warmth over the room. The figure had its back to him, but Richmond knew immediately that it wasn't Jessica. It was a man with a smooth, pale back, with a couple of moles dotted around on the surface. His head was covered in tufts of messed up brown hair, a small bald patch visible where the hair had started to vanish.

"Mmhhh..." the figure groaned again, before rolling over once more, face inches away from Richmond's own. Eyes focusing in the light, Richmond blinked rapidly at the face in front of him: pink cheeked, admittedly, and more ruffled than he generally looked, but there was only one person it could be. Denholm Renholm was in his bed. Denholm Renholm had ruffled, mad sex hair. Denholm Renholm was in his bed and he had ruffled, mad sex hair. In an instant, the previous night came back to him, perhaps more powerfully even than in his dreams.

* * *

"_Shh..." Denholm giggled as Richmond lead him by the hand to his flat door. "You'll wake everyone else up, which will decrease productivity tomorrow."_

_Richmond reached his spare hand up and wiped a hand across his already smudged makeup, a warmth flowing through him, possibly from the alcohol he had consumed that evening or from the fact that he was __**holding hands with Denholm**__. He quickly opened the door to the flat, pulling Denholm inside before pushing the very same man against the door to slam it shut. The two stood in the semi-darkness for a moment (only the security light of the flat was on, leaving them in a faint yellow beam of light), unsure of how to proceed, before Richmond let go of Denholm's hand and suddenly leant in to kiss him, pressing his purple made-up lips against Denholm's thin pink ones. Denholm responded immediately from his position pinned against the door, moving his hips closer to Richmond's and slipping a hand around his waist. The two kissed for almost a minute before Richmond pulled away, slipping a hand from where it had somehow settled itself on Denholm's neck down to the crotch of his work trousers and feeling for some kind of zipper or buttons. After that, the night just became a blur..._

* * *

His dream had been...a memory? A sleepy recollection? Richmond closed his eyes briefly, savoring the memory as it unfolded once more in his mind, his dick twitching even then as he thought of Denholm's muscular legs, his soft belly, his curvaceous, tight arse...his everything.

"Muhhh..." Denholm's eyes flickered beside him and very slowly, they opened. He glanced around for a moment, eyes narrowed and bleary, a muscle twitching in his cheek, before opening his eyes fully. He stared lazily at Richmond for a moment before his eyes widened and he pushed himself back in the bed like a worm, clutching at the soft sheets.

"Richmond? What...what am I doing here?"

"Don't you remember?" Richmond asked, suddenly noticing streaks of what he _hoped _was white makeup across his pillow. "We took to slumber together last night."

Denholm glanced down at himself, and after taking in his own nakedness, he slowly pulled the covers more tightly over himself.

"I need to go – my wife will be worried." Denholm's eyes grew a little glassy, and he drew back even further from Richmond's slim form. "This was a mistake."

Richmond closed his eyes as Denholm said the final word, a wall of horror falling down upon himself and crushing hope out of him. Inside of his own head, he felt his usual shroud of darkness descending once more. He hadn't even noticed it was gone, but as soon as he had noticed Denholm's presence he had felt...free. It all came back to creation sensation he had felt in his dreams.

"It wasn't a mistake, Denholm." Richmond spoke quietly, averting his eyes from Denholm as the older man dressed. "At least, not for me."

Denholm stopped in the middle of pulling his trousers on to glance at Richmond. In the dim light of the lamp and with the absence of most makeup, Denholm could appreciate just how good the man's facial structure was: strong cheekbones, a defined jaw and a perfect, flat little nose which was begging to be kissed on its tip. He was attractive, there was no playing around – there was no arguing with the fact that he was infinitely more enticing that his wife. But it was so _wrong_...he was _married_...

"Lie down, Denholm."

Despite Denholm's concerns, he cautiously removed his trousers once more and slowly climbed back into the bed. Suddenly, it felt 100% right. Richmond's bed was where he belonged.


End file.
